Just Keep Sweet (The Compound Series) (28 page)

“Cooke,” a harsh voice pulled his attention away from his cell phone.

“Yes, sir?”

Sergeant Ross was standing beneath the doorframe, with flared nostrils and hands on hips. He was pissed. “What did I tell you about Short Creek?”

He reminded himself to stay calm, but clearly the sergeant had seen Isaac and Paul while they were at the station. Jonathan forced a confused expression and asked, “Sir?”

“I saw you taking a statement from that kid earlier. Clearly they’re from the crick.”

“Indeed I was.”

“We discussed this. We stay out of their business, and they keep their noses clean.”

“One of them has
not
kept his nose clean. And I have a strong case against him, sir. I told you before, there is systemic abuse taking place here. It’s my duty to see this through.” Jonathan shook his head back and forth slowly. “Please don’t ask me to turn my back on innocents, Sergeant. I can’t do that. I won’t.”

Ross’s cheeks flushed and he swallowed hard. “You have a strong case? Against who?”

“Clarence Black, their so-called prophet. He’s abusing these kids—we’re talking sexual assault, battery. Then he kicks them out, never to return. It’s the perfect crime—they’re so terrified and they’re exiled from the only home they’ve ever known. It never crosses their minds to talk.”

Ross was quiet and Jonathan hoped he would be supportive and stop insisting the FLDS be left to their own devices.

“But someone’s talking?”

“Yes, sir. Two boys.”

“I see.” Ross paused.

“Once I finish the paperwork, I’ll make an appointment with Garcia.”

“Garcia, huh?”

Jonathan knew the best choice for obtaining an arrest warrant on this case was Judge Elena Garcia. She was tough, and a strong advocate for children, who didn’t shy away from any cases involving child rapists or molesters. Jonathan knew he’d get that warrant for sure. Ross’s hesitation or doubt or whatever it was that was causing him to question that choice gave Jonathan pause.

What’s your deal, Ross?

He cleared his throat and did his best to sound casual. “I think she’s the best choice, don’t you?”

Ross paused and then nodded with pursed lips. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Good work, Cooke. Leave the paperwork on my desk. And the video of the kid’s statement. I’ll look it over before I go home tonight.”

“Yes, sir.” Jonathan felt himself relax, relieved he wouldn’t have to deal with reprimands for pursuing this case despite the warnings he’d been given. “Burning the midnight oil, Sergeant?”

“Yep,” Ross said before tapping the doorframe. “Crime never sleeps, does it?”

“Unfortunately not, sir.”

“All right, good work, Cooke. Get some rest and I’ll see you in the a.m.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jonathan stood in the middle of his office, knowing this would all be over soon and he’d be able to put his involvement with the FLDS behind him. The prophet would be jailed, Aspen would reconcile with her husband and Jonathan could move on. And when the dust settled, he might actually take that Post-it note out of the drawer. Hell, he might even dial the number written on it.

Chapter 25

When I woke the next morning, the sheets were cold and Aspen had slipped from the bed. I rolled over, woke the desperately needed sleep from my eyes, and yawned.

“Aspen?”

She popped her head out from behind the door to the bathroom. The genuine smile shining back at me was all I needed to start my day on the right foot despite all the obvious obstacles that stood before us both.

“Good morning.” She emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed and braid already done. I sighed, wishing I could have seen her again in her natural state.

Beggars can’t be choosers. She’s standing near you with a smile on her face. Take what you can get.

“Did I wake you?” she asked, walking to sit on the edge of the bed. I draped my arm over her lap.

“No, not at all.”

She leaned forward and ran her fingers along my morning beard. “I’m glad I got to see you before starting my day.”

I stole a quick kiss before lying back down. “Me too.”

“Take your time and I’ll see you at breakfast.” She rose to her feet and her face fell. “Where were you
supposed
to sleep last night?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, still groggy and not quite understanding the question.

“I’m not on your rotation yet.”

I hopped out of the bed and pulled her in for another kiss. She squirmed but released a playful giggle. “Well, I’ll fix that immediately.”

“Please do. But whose night did I steal?”

I clenched my teeth, grimacing at the thought. My head was blank. “I have no idea. But whoever it is, I’ll take care of it. That’s the last thing I want you to worry about.” I nuzzled her neck. “You smell so good.”

I could hear her breath catch. “It’s just my shampoo.”

“I like it.”

“Since you took my braid down, it was a nice excuse for a wash.”

I ran my hand down the thickest portion of her braid. “Well, you’d better stock up. I have a feeling your hair is going to be
very
clean in the coming months.”

Aspen tilted her head back and laughed. It was a deep, hearty, genuine laugh—the kind that satisfies, the kind that makes your entire day better. It felt so good to make her laugh again. An enormous sense of pride filled me from head to toe.

“I look forward to it.” She winked and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek. One wink from Aspen could bring a man to his knees . . . especially this lovestruck man whose desire for his wife had been reawakened with a vengeance. “I have to wake the kids. I’m surprised Jeremiah didn’t sneak in here already. It’s almost seven.”

“He did, during the night. He had a nightmare so I took him back to bed and sang his favorite lullaby.”

“How did I miss that?”

“You were out like a rock.”

She shrugged. “I guess I needed it.”

“We both did.” I kissed her again, unable to resist those soft, full lips. “Okay, I’ll see you at breakfast.”

When I reached the kitchen, I could feel tension looming in the air. The carefree expression on Aspen’s face was long gone. It’d been replaced with a contemplative hesitancy I could see in her knitted brow and pursed lips. Flora stood with arms crossed in front of her broad chest. Once she saw me, she cleared her throat with a loud, urgent, “Ahem.”

I glanced at Aspen, who shook her head quickly and diverted her attention away from Flora and me. “Is everything all right, Flora?”

My first wife brushed past me. I could feel an icy chill as her shoulder met mine. “I need to speak with you.”

“Of course.” I followed her down the hall.

“Let’s go to your study.”

A shot of adrenaline filled my abdomen. Normally, that’s exactly where Flora and I would have our discussions, but I couldn’t risk her crossing paths with Isaac.

“You know,” I said, trying my best to sound casual. “It’s a beautiful morning, let’s go for a walk.”

She stopped, glared at me, and then glanced out the nearest window. “Fine.”

We stepped out into the sunlight and birds chirped from nearby trees. “You seem upset. What’s the matter?”

“You didn’t come to me last night.”

Ah. It was Flora whose night was skipped. This won’t end well.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Where were you?” she asked, then shook her head. “Never mind, I know exactly where you were.”

I stopped in my tracks and glowered at my wife, shocked by her condescension. “What does
that
mean?”

“I
heard
you. I heard you both.” She shook her head, closing her eyes tight before covering them with her hands.

“Look, I’m sure it goes without saying that Aspen and I . . . well, we’ve had a rocky marriage thus far.”

“Spare me the details, Paul. I don’t want to hear it. I heard enough already.”

“That’s not fair.” I shook my head, placing both hands on my hips. “Look, I’m sorry I missed our night together, and I promise not to let that happen again. And once Aspen’s back in the rotation, we’ll switch one of her nights to you, all right?”

Flora kept her eyes pressed tight together. “No, it’s not all right. I’m your first wife, Paul. I should be treated with reverence, with respect and adoration. I shouldn’t be taken for granted.”

“I don’t take you for granted. It was a mistake, and I’m sorry you’re hurt. But it was a much-needed reconciliation, and I don’t owe you any more explanation than that.”

Flora opened her eyes and scowled. “You owe me every explanation. I’ve been your wife for over twenty years. I don’t deserve to be cast aside simply because you can’t control yourself with a certain woman in the house.”

“Bite your tongue, woman.” I raised my voice, then looked around us to make sure no one was listening to our conversation. Luckily, we were alone. It was early enough that many hadn’t yet left their houses for the day.

She turned away from me, kicking a rock and muttering to herself. “I should’ve taken the prophet up on his offer. Now I’m stuck with her, with the two of you.”

“What offer?” I hissed, horrified Flora had gone behind my back to meet with Clarence.

“He offered to reassign her.”

“When? Why don’t I know about this?”

“It was months ago, shortly after his engagement to Ruthie was announced. He knew Aspen was causing problems in our household, and he offered to reassign her to someone in Texas.”

I stalked toward her as I boomed, “What? Why didn’t you tell me this?”

She stared at the ground, suddenly sheepish. “It was a private conversation. I’m not required to share my conversations with the prophet.”

“I’ve always shared mine with you. You couldn’t give me that same courtesy?”

She was silent.

“All this talk about treating you with reverence, with respect, yet you don’t do the same for your husband. Your only husband.”

“Paul, I—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“I didn’t agree to the reassignment . . . obviously.”

“But now you wish you had?” I growled, my rage building throughout my body.

“When I heard her cry out last night, yes. Yes, I wished she was somewhere else, not married to
my
husband, not living the life I wanted with you.”

“We have a perfectly fine marriage.”

“Exactly, it’s fine. But that’s all it’s ever been.”

“So? That’s what plural marriage is. You have to share, Flora.”

“I shared just fine until she walked into our lives, until you started acting like a hormonal teenage boy.”

“I will not warn you again. You’d better watch your tongue.”

Tears pooled in her eyes and red splotches formed on her skin. “I’m sorry, I . . . I feel like I’ve lost you. You’ve been different since you married that girl and now, these past few weeks you barely look my way.”

“Did you forget that Isaac was exiled? You’re not my top priority right now, Flora, you should know that.”

“He’s just one of your dozens of children. You can’t let it consume you like this.”

“How can you say that? If this happened to any of our boys, you’d be beside yourself.”

“My boys know not to step out of line. None of my boys would be caught doing what he did to the temple.”

Everything came to a screeching halt. I closed my eyes tight as I collected my thoughts. When I opened them, Flora’s cheeks had turned pale.

“How do you know what Clarence claimed he did? Sarah and I didn’t tell the family.”

“I . . . I . . .”

“Just how often do you talk to my brother?”

She turned away, avoiding my prying eyes. Guilt covered her features.

“Not often.”

“Flora,” I snapped. I could feel heat growing in my ears.

“Fine. Weekly.”

“You have weekly conversations with Clarence? Why?”

“They’re check-ins. We’ve had them since he made the offer of reassignment.”

“Check-ins? What exactly does that mean?”

“I give him status reports—”

“On what exactly?”

“Mainly Aspen, but sometimes we discuss other things.”

“Such as?”

“You. Isaac.”

“How dare you, Flora? How dare you betray the sanctity of our marriage like that?”

“He’s the prophet; he comes first. You know this. My allegiance is first to Heavenly Father and then to my prophet. After that is you, my sister wives, and my children. You’re very aware of the hierarchy, Paul.”

I couldn’t see straight knowing that every week for months, Flora had gone behind my back to update the prophet on the events of our household. The one person who didn’t need to know the ins and outs of my home was informed of everything.
Everything
.

“Paul, speak to me.”

“I can’t even look at you.”

“Oh for goodness sake,” she said in her all-too-dismissive tone. No one’s concerns mattered as much as her own. The rage in my gut mounted. All I could see was red. “You’re overreact—”

I stepped toward her and pointed my index finger at her, inches from her nose. “Stop right there. You’re lucky you’re a woman . . . otherwise, I could not be held responsible for the damage I might do,” I seethed.